The Sweetest Words

I was making dinner for Granville the other night when unexpectedly out of his mouth came,

"Dad, your my best friend."

It caught me off guard, because the strong willed one and I are consistently battling who hold's the remote that controls the other. I even believe my bottom lipped quivered as emotion took over and my wife Amanda stopped what she was doing in the other room in disbelief.

As working Dad's, we always get the 20 minutes in the morning and the hour and a half at night to spend with our little ones. We constantly take for granted the work that Mom's go through in raising the children. They have 8 hours a day to teach and play and we just re-inforce. But this statement was different, because I had a vision of what I wanted fatherhood to be like. I wanted to be a pal to my children and more. I aspired when I was younger that I wanted to be a dispenser of wisdom, a benefolent guide who would lead his children along the evil-infested pathway to maturity, gently nudging them this way and that, helping them make the journey safely. I never envisioned myself as "a best friend," but more as "Aslan" from Narnia. Brave and respected and stoic in stature.

But I am learning to take the role as they are little and be just that "a best friend." Granville and I sword fight, wrestle and play "bombs away," as we throw wiffle balls at each other. They are only little for awhile, and what they need is a fatherly best friend to share ice cream, dig in the sandbox, and most of all, help make the saturday morning pancakes. To Granville, he wants me to do that first, and hold off on "Aslan's" knowledge until another age in his life, where my wisdom will help guide him to when he begins to make decisions on his own.

Every Day Dad